Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me.

The crisis of today is the joke of tomorrow.

About two-thirds of the face of Marx is beard, a vast solemn wooly uneventful beard that must have made all normal exercise impossible. It is not the sort of beard that happens to a man, it is a beard cultivated, cherished, and thrust patriarchally upon the world.

One of the darkest evils of our world is surely the unteachable wildness of the Good.

If I am recalling an incident very vividly I go back to the instant of its occurrence; I become absent minded, as you say. I jump back for a moment. Of course we have no means of staying back for any length of time any more than a savage or an animal has of staying six feet above the ground. But a civilized man is better off than the savage in this respect. He can go up against gravitation in a balloon, and why should we not hope that ultimately he may be able to stop or accelerate his drift along the Time Dimension; or even to turn about and travel the other way?

Good books are the warehouses of ideas.

The State's your mother, your father, the totality of your interests. No discipline can be too severe for the man that denies thatby word or deed.